


Separation Anxiety

by DementedPixie



Series: Demented Pixie's Buckystuckyfanfic [15]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Falcon and the Winter Soldier
Genre: And Gets One, Gen, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pre-The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV) Trailers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28132566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DementedPixie/pseuds/DementedPixie
Summary: Steve can't stop worrying about his Bucky
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Demented Pixie's Buckystuckyfanfic [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1264823
Kudos: 34





	Separation Anxiety

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lolli_lou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolli_lou/gifts).



The little diner hadn’t changed much since the first time the two men had met there, but one of them certainly had. Steve brushed off Bruce’s attempts to help him into his seat.

“Come on,” he drawled, raising his hands to fend Bruce off, “I may be old but I’m not infirm.”

“Sorry,” said Bruce, taking the hint and pulling over the Hulk sized seat that they kept specially for their unique customer. “I just can’t get used to it.”

“It’s okay,” replied Steve, making himself comfortable as he shrugged out of his jacket and placed it on the seat beside him. “It’s just weird having everyone treat you as if you’re made of glass and about to break any minute.”

Bruce fiddled with the menu, looking a little awkward.

“What is it?” said Steve. “Go on, you can ask.”

“How did you know I wanted to ask something?”

Steve smiled. “Let’s just say I know you well enough by now. Ask.”

Bruce looked relieved “Thanks pal. It’s just, well, how old actually are you? I mean, I tried to work it out, but it’s complicated, right?”

“Not really, I was born in 1917 and it’s 2024 now. You do the math.”

Bruce leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “Yeah, but you’ve been alive for longer than that,” he said. “Born in 1917, sure. And you lived right through to 2023 but then you went back to when, 1950 something? And lived another full life. And then came back.”

Steve gazed at his own menu, obviously not really reading it as he took in Bruce’s words. “Well, when you put it like that,” he said, “I guess I am pretty ancient.”

Bruce signalled for the waitress, suddenly aware that his questioning had deadened the mood.

“What can I get you?” asked the waitress, brightly, poised with her notepad and pen.

“Do you have a special today?” asked Bruce, hoping that it was going to be Steve’s favourite.

“The meatloaf is real good,” she replied.

Yes!

Steve immediately brightened up. “Yes please,” he said, giving her a smile.

“Make it two,” added Bruce, “and two herbal teas.”

“Actually, make mine a coffee.”

“Steve! I thought you’d agreed to keep off the caffeine.”

“I don’t work right without my coffee,” grumbled Steve. “And your herbal tea is like drinking grass.”

“It’s good for you,” cajoled Bruce.

“I think at my age, whatever that age may be, I’m allowed to have a few things I like.” Steve crossed his arms across his chest, subject closed.

The waitress walked away.

Bruce huffed a bit while Steve pointedly looked out the window.

“Hey,” said Bruce. “I’m sorry.”

No matter what age he was, Steve Rogers wasn’t a sulker. He turned back to his friend.

“No,” he said, “I’m sorry. It’s just, life is so strange right now. I don’t even know how to explain it.”

Bruce reached his huge hand out and patted him gently on the shoulder.

“Well that’s why it’s good to have friends. Talk to me.”

Steve reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out his Stark phone, quickly scrolling to the page he wanted.

“Actually,” he said, “I’d like if you’d listen to something.”

Finding what he wanted, Steve positioned the phone in the middle of the table so they could both hear it, standing it up against the sugar bowl. He pressed play.

_“What’s going on in that cyborg brain of yours?”_

_“You don’t wanna know.”_

_“Oh, yeah, I can see it working, gears turning, oh, they’re malfunctioning, they’re on fire!”_

_“God, I hate you.”_

Bruce stared at the phone.

“Is that Sam’s voice?” he asked, his expression turning from confusion to shock. “And Bucky’s? Steve, do you have them bugged?”

The meatloaf arrived.

It had a sticky glaze on it, and was served with extra mashed potatoes and green beans, as if the waitress realised she had two larger than normal appetites to cater for.

Steve made appreciative noises as he dug in. He really loved meatloaf.

Bruce made no move towards his own lunch, instead staring at his friend across the table.

“Steve.”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you have Sam and Bucky bugged?”

“My, this is good. Try it,” insisted Steve.

“But Steve!”

“Eat first, talk later.”

“You sound like Yoda.”

To Bruce, the meal seemed to last for ever.

******

When Steve had finally finished his second helping of meatloaf, a huge dish of peach cobbler, and not one but two coffees, Bruce fixed him with his no nonsense look.

“Okay,” he said. “We’ve eaten. Now talk, before I get arrested for beating up an old man.”

Steve ran his finger along his dessert plate so he could lick the last taste of peach, then let out a huge sigh.

“I think Sam is bullying Bucky,” he said.

“What?” Bruce shouted, causing the other diners to suddenly silence their chatter. “Sorry!” he said, to anyone who looked interested, waiting for them all to go back to their business.

Steve held up his hands in defence.

“I can’t help it, Bruce. Sam is doing a great job, I know he is, but Bucky has been through so much. He should still be in Wakanda, tending goats. Instead he’s back fighting the bad guys without even so much as a transitional period. And I know he and Sam don’t get on.”

“Now, wait. Leaving you bugging your friends aside, I disagree they don’t get on. Friendly rivalry, maybe, but Bucky doesn’t need you defending him. He can look after himself.”

“Can he?” Steve leaned across the table. “He was tortured by Hydra for decades, Bruce. We don’t even know if there are trigger words still in his head. At the very least he’ll have PTSD for the rest of his life. Why do you think I gave the shield to Sam and not Bucky? He deserves a rest, not to be back in the fight again.”

Bruce paused as he took this in.

“You think he’s still under Hydra control?”

“What? No!”

“Then what? Steve, your friend is not the man he used to be, not during the war but also not since Thanos. He and Sam are friends, they respect each other. Sure, Sam teases him, but it’s not meant to be serious. I know you know what a sense of humour is. Well Sam has one, and so does Bucky!”

“That’s not what I hear when they’re together.”

“And that’s the other thing!” Bruce picked up Steve’s phone and waved it at him for emphasis. “This has to stop. You gave away that shield, and your friends, your colleagues, are doing the best job possible to fill your shoes. You have to let them get on without you. It was your choice to go, your choice to pass on the shield. You trusted them when you made that choice. You need to trust them now.”

It seemed then that Steve deflated in some way. His shoulders dropped, followed by his chin as he looked down at his own hands. And he suddenly appeared as old as every one of his unspecified number of years.

“I miss him, Bruce,” he admitted, quietly.

“Buddy,” said Bruce, kindly, “I know you do. But you can’t have your peach cobbler and eat it. Your boy needs to live his life now. I’m sure he’ll visit when he can. When was the last time you saw him?”

“This morning, actually,” replied Steve, blushing a little.

“And the time before that?”

“Yesterday.”

“Steve…”

“In fact, I see him every day unless he’s on a mission. And that’s when I listen in so I know he’s okay.”

Bruce tried his best to hide the threatening smile. “So you miss him, but you see him every day?”

“Yes, Bruce.”

“And you worry about him when he’s on a mission, but you listen in to make sure he’s safe.”

“Yes, Bruce.”

Bruce nodded, then waved at the waitress, pulling notes out of his wallet as she approached.

“Lunch is on me,” he said, as he stood up and waited for Steve to slide out of the booth. “But only if you agree to tell Bucky what you’ve told me.” He held his hand up as Steve began to argue. “And you’re to tell him that you’ve bugged his clothes.”

“Yes, Bruce.”

Steve picked his phone up from the table, but not before Bruce spotted that his screensaver was a photo of Bucky.

“And we are going to have lunch more regularly so you can talk about the things that worry you, okay?”

Steve at least had the good grace to look contrite, as he put his jacket back on.

“Yes, Bruce.” Steve, looking up into kind eyes. “I thought you weren’t that kind of doctor.”

“I’m not,” replied Bruce, pulling Steve into a firm embrace. “But I am that kind of friend.”


End file.
